


an anatomy of want

by treescape



Series: to have and to hold [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Obi-Wan pulls the strings behind the scenes, Possessive Anakin Skywalker, Suitless Darth Vader, Top Anakin Skywalker, Two years post-Revenge of the Sith, Vaderwan, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: There was a hint of teeth as Anakin paused where he was kissing his way up Obi-Wan’s neck, just enough to be felt. “I want to hear you say it.”He always did, and Obi-Wan always gave it to him eventually, but he waited until Anakin had reached the hinge of his jaw. “I want you too, Anakin.” In some ways, this had only ever worked as long as it had because—Force help him—hedid.Anakin shivered at the feel of that admission as it sounded beneath Obi-Wan’s skin, and he breathed his next words against the pounding of Obi-Wan’s pulse. “How do you want me?”
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Vader
Series: to have and to hold [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970581
Comments: 41
Kudos: 385





	an anatomy of want

**Author's Note:**

> This follows [to have and to hold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010349), but I think can be read as a standalone as well. The most important background to know is that Mustafar went a little differently and Obi-Wan gave himself to Anakin as a distraction to hide Luke and Leia's existence from him. Obi-Wan's playing a long game.
> 
> For [orientalld](https://orientalld.tumblr.com/) and [LittleLynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn) who both wanted to see Obi-Wan manipulating/distracting Anakin in _other_ ways.
> 
> And as always, thank you to [tessiete](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessiete) for always letting me ramble. I don't think half of my works would see completion without her.

Their rooms on Coruscant were neither ostentatious nor austere, poised somewhere comfortably beyond the line of mere function. They looked lived in, Obi-Wan thought almost clinically, which they were—books scattered and propped open on low tables in the sitting room, the brocade of the chairs faintly scuffed from use. He wished he could hate them, but such things were more dangerous than ever, now. Instead, he made do as best he could: he avoided the windows, with their view of the Senate District, and when that wasn’t enough, he remembered that it could have been worse.

At least they weren’t on Mustafar. Obi-Wan would confront the ghosts of Coruscant a hundred times over before he ever set foot on that planet again. It burned with a despair even Zigoola hadn’t approached.

The doors slid open and closed, but Obi-Wan didn’t need their customary _hiss_ to register Anakin’s presence. Obi-Wan could sense him no matter where he was. Now, not two dozen feet away, he pulled Obi-Wan in with all the weight of a collapsing star.

Obi-Wan didn’t turn, but he tracked Anakin’s progress in his mind—across the blue-and-gold of the carpets, around the small table where they often ate, step by imperious step to where Obi-Wan stood at the towering bookshelves along the furthest wall. A hand settled at Obi-Wan’s waist, fingers warm even through the fabric of his tunics. He didn’t flinch, but he _did_ wish he didn’t want to lean in.

“I assume you got that blasted treaty signed,” Obi-Wan said evenly as he finished shelving his book away, fingers neat and precise against the spine. Anakin didn’t particularly care for physical books, but Obi-Wan did; he could never say as much to Anakin, but the feel and the smell of them reminded him of Qui-Gon, of Satine, of Padme. He didn’t know if it made it better or worse that Anakin made such concessions to his comfort. If Anakin was capable of compromise at all, it was a reminder that the things he _wouldn’t_ concede were done by conscious choice.

“It was an important treaty,” Anakin said, pressing the words against Obi-Wan’s temple, and the way he said it so matter-of-factly made something tighten nauseously in Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“Important to Sidious, you mean,” he replied, and pressed the palm of his hand flat against the books before him. “For someone who wanted so badly to escape my teaching and become a Jedi Knight, you certainly are happy to take orders from your Emperor. Tell me. Do you plan to be his apprentice forever?”

Those words were as likely to stir anger as amusement, but Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s lips curl into a pleased smile. Anakin’s metallic hand settled at Obi-Wan’s waist as well, a counterweight to his hand of flesh. “Are you jealous, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer in so many words, but then, he didn’t have to. The answer sat hot in his chest, and he had no reason right now to bury it. Yoda might have said that jealously was as dangerous as hate, but with Anakin, at least jealousy had its uses.

Anakin did like to feel wanted.

“Don’t worry. I serve Sidious for now because I have to. But I _want_ you.” Anakin shifted at his back, and then there were lips, soft and warm, against the side of Obi-Wan’s neck. “I’ve wanted you all day.”

The words were fervent in a way that went beyond physicality, and Obi-Wan had to take a moment to breathe. One of the most dangerous things about being here was how difficult it could be to maintain control of his thoughts when Anakin surrounded him like this. It wasn’t just the tempest of Anakin’s emotions, battering always at his mind. Anakin’s heat, his scent, his _voice_ —he was like a fever dream, sometimes, all intensity and tumult and need. It meant that Obi-Wan had to continually retreat to the very core of himself, but occasionally, he feared he wasn’t safe even there.

“You already have me,” he finally said, and it was so true it was almost banal.

There was a hint of teeth as Anakin paused where he was kissing his way up Obi-Wan’s neck, just enough to be felt. “I want to hear you say it.”

He always did, and Obi-Wan always gave it to him eventually, but he waited until Anakin had reached the hinge of his jaw. “I want you too, Anakin.” In some ways, this had only ever worked as long as it had because—Force help him—he _did_.

Anakin shivered at the feel of that admission as it sounded beneath Obi-Wan’s skin, and he breathed his next words against the pounding of Obi-Wan’s pulse. “How do you want me?”

“You know how I want you,” Obi-Wan said quietly, deliberately, because he’d never made any secret of it. He wanted Anakin in light, and contentment, and peace.

Instead, he had Anakin in darkness, surrounded by the shards of a past that still burned like sand beneath desert suns. 

Obi-Wan turned to put the shelves at his back, and Anakin’s fingers tightened against the suddenness of the movement before easing to allow it. Anakin’s face was a mask, rigid and closed, but some masks were easy to read.

“How do _you_ want _me_?” Obi-Wan asked, rubbing one thumb along the collar of Anakin’s dark robes. He let the gesture catch for a fraction of a second, as if he had caught himself moving unawares, and then reached up to smooth a caress against Anakin’s chin as if to hide it.

“In every way,” Anakin said, after a long moment, and his voice was as hot as his eyes.

In moments like these, it was difficult to say whether Obi-Wan let himself be followed or crowded into their bedchamber. He stopped when the backs of his knees hit the edge of their bed, but Anakin’s hands were such an unrelenting flurry of activity that it almost felt as if he was still moving. Sometimes Anakin enjoyed undressing him slowly, but apparently this wasn’t one of those times.

“I want to watch you get yourself ready for me,” Anakin said fiercely once he had urged Obi-Wan to the mattress with the weight of his own body, the light and the dark of their respective robes in a heap on the floor. The lube floated in from _somewhere_ , coming to a stop in Anakin’s grip, and then Anakin was pressing hot kisses along the slope of his jaw. Obi-Wan didn’t try to hide the flush he could feel spreading down his chest, a mix of embarrassment and desire.

Anakin rolled slightly to one side, right leg hooked around Obi-Wan’s left, and propped himself up on one arm so that he could more properly see. If Obi-Wan hadn’t already been hard from the press of Anakin against his hip, or the sight of Anakin’s lips, roughened from his beard, the faint stretch of one finger would have done it. He’d never done this before, until Anakin, not even to himself.

But that had been another life, one where he hadn't encouraged Anakin to bear into his body almost every night.

“Stop,” Anakin said before Obi-Wan had managed two fingers. “I changed my mind. _I_ want to do it.” The way he said the words, the look of satisfaction on his face when he replaced Obi-Wan’s finger with two of his—it was almost as if he was jealous of Obi-Wan for getting to be inside of himself when Anakin _wasn’t_.

The longer press of Anakin’s fingers, the thicker stretch of paired knuckles—it was a delirium, and Obi-Wan allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes as he panted and arched into it, one hand clenched in the sheets near his head and the other around Anakin’s shoulder. There was no point in disguising his eagerness, and not only because Anakin already knew how much he liked this. Anakin had been blunt from the start that he didn’t care to fuck Obi-Wan unless Obi-Wan wanted him, too.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, it was to find Anakin watching him, gaze possessive and hot as it moved between his face and his flushed cock, and—Force, it scared Obi-Wan sometimes that all he was doing was pushing Anakin further into the dark, into jealousy and possessiveness and greed. He would have to think about it in more depth, later, when Anakin’s fingers weren’t bumping relentlessly up against his prostate, when his limbs weren’t already trembling with the strain of desire.

“Who do you see?” Anakin asked, and oh, Obi-Wan knew what he wanted, but it was one thing he’d never get.

“ _Anakin_.” It was as much an accusation as it was an answer. Perhaps it was a plea, as well, as Anakin’s fingers twisted deliciously against his rim on the next outstroke.

“Try again, Obi-Wan.”

Anakin had to know it was useless, that Obi-Wan would never use the other name; it was one of the very few lines he had left. It would be one more death knell for Anakin Skywalker, and if there was one thing Obi-Wan wanted more than he wanted to hide the children…

Well, perhaps it was a foolish hope, a _dangerous_ hope, but he hoped it nonetheless.

But always, Anakin pressed, and right now he pressed with words and fingers both. Obi-Wan released his grip on Anakin’s shoulder and tangled his hand into Anakin’s curls, needing the distraction of their softness. He pulled Anakin down into a messy kiss, and it was enough to make Anakin drag his fingers out of Obi-Wan’s hole to close around his other wrist where it was fisted in the sheets.

The relief, of course, was short lived—but it was enough. Anakin bit at Obi-Wan’s lips, soothed the hurt with his tongue, and then swept inside. Before there was even time to fully register that first entry, Anakin was hitching one of Obi-Wan’s legs up around his waist and fucking slowly into Obi-Wan’s body.

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” Anakin said, pulling back just enough to press the words against Obi-Wan’s lips, and Obi-Wan felt them as much as he heard them.

For a moment, all Obi-Wan could do was moan his pleasure into Anakin's mouth, but finally he gathered the air to speak. The sound of his own voice grounded him, a little. “I see your eyes, Anakin,” he managed. “As blue as the day I met you.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Anakin gritted, punctuating each word with a rough thrust of his hips, and Obi-Wan would smile if he could focus enough. 

“You wanted an answer,” Obi-Wan panted. “I see your hair, as bronze as an eclipse in the night. I see your face, Anakin, as familiar as mine.”

Anakin’s fingers tightened around Obi-Wan’s wrist—not hard enough to leave marks, not quite, but enough to remind Obi-Wan they were there. The incessant rhythm of his hips was hard, punishing, but so, so good. “I shouldn’t even let you come. I should just keep you here always, wanting me.”

Obi-Wan rocked up in Anakin’s next thrust, tightening down on his cock almost viciously, and Anakin threw his head back in response as his hips stuttered to a stop. “I already want you.” He arched up, straining to rub his cock against Anakin’s stomach—both for the pressure, and so that he wasn’t the only one wet and sticky with his precome. “Wouldn’t you rather feel me?”

Anakin dropped his head forward again, watching Obi-Wan through narrowed eyes, but it didn’t take him long to break. “You want to come,” he said roughly, “so come, now, on my cock.” He started moving again, but he wasn’t really thrusting, just grinding in deeply, barely pulling out enough to push back in at all. It left Obi-Wan no chance to feel anything but _full_ , blinding pleasure, his cock trapped between their bodies and his body caught between Anakin and the bed. It was almost enough to make him forget…everything.

Almost. 

“On _my_ cock,” Anakin said again, pushing forward one last time with just the right pressure, and it was enough to send Obi-Wan over the edge.

Distantly, he felt Anakin come a short time later, body losing all coordination as Obi-Wan took more of his weight, and it never failed to make Obi-Wan’s head swim that he could crave that burden so much.

“You’ll never have me the way you want,” Anakin said, his voice already hazy with sleep as he shifted to one side, one arm draped possessively over Obi-Wan’s waist and lips brushing against his ear. “I’ll never turn back. Do you still want me anyway?”

Obi-Wan’s chest tightened, because in moments like these, Anakin sounded so much like his younger self. It would be so easy to close his eyes against these rooms and forget.

“I’ll always want you, Anakin,” he said, and thought long into the night about that said of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm planning to add more to this series; it'll be non-linear, so installments might go backwards or forwards in time.
> 
> I'm [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you ever want to come say hi!


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